


Under Cool Hands

by Blue_Daddys_Girl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka looks out for Obi-Wan, Anakin cannot be around, Caretaking, Dreams and Nightmares, Everything will get better, Except we know it won't, Fever, Fever Dreams, Gen, Grand Master & Grand Padawan Bonding (Star Wars), Heavy Mood, Jedi Ahsoka Tano, Light Angst, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Protective Ahsoka Tano, Short One Shot, Sickfic, Togruta Culture & Traditions (Star Wars), Whump, le sigh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28715823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Daddys_Girl/pseuds/Blue_Daddys_Girl
Summary: When Obi-Wan comes down with a sickness that is highly contagious to other humans, he's put in isolation and the mission goes on without him. Togrutas being unaffected, Ahsoka stays behind with her grand master to care for him, and voices some worries of her own.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 10
Kudos: 141





	Under Cool Hands

The fever swallowed him whole, like a scalding sea, washing over his face and drowning him.

At the start he knew himself, knew his name, his location. He knew he was sick, though he did not remember falling ill. _I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi_ , he would remind himself when in danger of losing some invisible grip. _I'm a Jedi Master. I'm on- I'm on_... But his world was limited to the sticky sheets under him and a suffocating cover above.

'Drink, master,' a voice said, far away.

He choked, willing the sea to stop, to release him. He fought the tides, reaching out blindly to the Force, only to be put down by restraints so cool they seared his skin and made him cry out.

'It'll pass, it'll be over soon,' the voice promised, and the Jedi sobbed.

Eventually he forgot who he was, and where, and when. He surrendered himself to the calm assurances of the voice. He stopped fighting the currents and only strived to stay afloat, one breath at a time, diving in and out of oblivion.

The man dreamt he was a general. He dreamt of an army at his command, countless faces turned to him like flowers to the sun, all of them identical, waiting on his orders. When he addressed them, his words were of war, of death, offence and defence, of tactical retreats and final pushes.

He dreamt of explosions and screams, of dark and oppressive rooms lit by red light tinted with fury.

He dreamt of running, of flipping through the acrobatics of ataru, of sweat swishing from his brow and his hands coming away from it wet with blood. No matter how he tried to rub it off, the blood would not wash away.

 _General!_ A voice called. _General, general! Behind! Above! We're surrounded–_

He tried to help, to grasp at the flailing limbs of his men, but his hands were too slick with blood to hold on to them. They all slipped under the dark waves, leaving him alone and adrift. _I'm missing something_ , he thought to himself, peering into the sea. _I'm missing someone_.  
As if summoned by the thought, a man appeared, a spectre flickering across the water's surface.

_Who are you?  
_

_I'm you_ , the reflection answered, a faint smile on his serene face, arms crossed, hand hidden in the deep sleeves of light Jedi robes. _As you should have been_.

'Please, you must take your medicine.'

Memories resurfaced. He was a Jedi Knight. His name was Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was terribly sick, like– _on Mandalore_. He reached out blindly.

'Satine?'

'No, Master, but you must drink this, come now...'

If he wasn't on Mandalore, was his mission over? Was he in the halls of healing? A terrible sense of hollowness overtook him.

'Shush, it's okay, I'm here with you,' the voice said.

Cool fingers brushed his temples, catching his tears.

When Obi-Wan came to, it truly felt like breaking the surface tension of an ocean. His skin was clammy, his clothes damp. Every last muscle ached. His mind was still shrouded in confusion but he knew now to tap into the Force to centre himself. He was a Jedi Knight, he was one with the Force, and the Force worked in and through him.  
He breathed in deep, nose blissfully free, an everyday luxury that he felt he might have under-appreciated.  
Someone was singing, Obi-Wan realised, in a language he recognised but did not speak. They were drawing shapes in his hand too. He grunted, cracked an eye open. The language was togruti... That meant–Ahsoka? His grand padawan...  
He was a Master, and not a Knight. He was a general, and not just a Jedi. He wondered where the nightmares had ended, and where the visions had started. Obi-Wan's dreams were rarely just that, and what dark ones those had been. Too close to the truth for comfort.

'Ahsoka?' He asked, voice cracking in the middle of her name.

'Master! You're awake!'

He groaned, not feeling equal to the sarcasm such an obvious statement would have warranted.

Ahsoka cupped his neck and lifted him gingerly, spreading a towel under his back and changing his pillow. She gave him the end of a straw to sip from and busied herself with cold compresses. Obi-Wan sighed under her ministrations, feeling human again.

'Where?' He asked around the straw, when she was done and sat back at his side. She looked so tired, he thought, with dark bags under her eyes.

'We're still on Dantooine. Do you remember the mission, Master? The droid says that with your fever being so high, your memories might not be very clear.'

'Dantooine?' Obi-Wan frowned. It was an important outpost. He did not remember ever going there.

When he told Ahsoka as much, she gave him a sad but mischievous smile. 'Not surprising, you became sick almost immediately. By the time we reached the forward camp and came under fire, you were already completely out of it. We lost the shuttle, but the base had a medical droid. It says it's viro-eisar, so no human should come near you. Relief will arrive soon.'

'I see.' And yet, he was missing some–

Obi-Wan gasped, tried to rise. 'Where is Anakin?'

It had felt like he was gone, in his dream, in his vision, it was like he'd never been there.

'He's fine, Master, just lie down, relax!' Ahsoka pushed him back into his pillows. It didn't take a lot of effort. Obi-Wan was weak as a newborn. 'The troopers all had their helmets on, and his blood tests came out clean before he left. You didn't infect anyone. He went to lead the assault while I stayed with you. It's all fine. He's too stupid to get sick anyway, you know?'

Obi-Wan chuckled, more from relief than amusement. He looked at Ahsoka, felt her anxiety rippling in erratic waves through the Force. He wished he could reach over, pat her head, tell her everything would be well now. It was his role to reassure, to care...  
He started to drift away again, when the sensation of someone drawing in the palm of his hand returned. Ahsoka was making shapes with the tip of her lek, holding it like a stylus. There was an odd focus about her. This wasn't an idle thing, it had purpose.

'What are you doing?' He asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 'You were singing... Earlier.'

The young woman blushed, bit on her lip, and gave Obi-Wan a sheepish look.

'It's something my mother did for me. Something you do when you want someone to get better. The song, I– I didn't remember the lyrics, so I looked it up, in the archives, last time we were at the Temple. It's meant to encourage the spirit to fight the sickness. Your family takes turn singing it, or sings in unison.'

'It's nice.'

Ahsoka's look of surprise pained him. It seemed like she'd expected a reprimand. Maybe, in another time and another place, he might have admonished her for spending her time researching togruta healing songs, for reaching out to a culture that would never truly be hers–and that knowledge pained him even more. She was a child tending her sick Master amidst a war, could he reproach her what comforts she leaned into?

He thought of the reflection he'd seen, the placid Jedi in white robes, the man who'd never carried the title of general and wore a version of his face devoid of worry lines. Had he been a figment of his delirious imagination, born from the turbulent darkness of a mind retreating from its pains? Or the person he ought to have become?

'Master?'

'Yes?'

'Is this... Is this really alright? To fight this war like that?'

'What do you mean?'

'Seeing you like this, I- at one point I thought you were dying, and Anakin... He went to continue the mission but, what if you hadn't woken up? And if he doesn't make it, and Rex and Jesse and everyone, because we're not here to help? I just... I wonder if it's really worth it... If it's okay, to sacrifice,' she waved her hand helplessly, '-this much.'

Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed. He did not need to open them to sense Ahsoka's doubts, her insecurities. He had worried her a great deal, he could tell, but it was one star in a nebula cluster. Ahsoka too, he knew, must dream of countless faces staring at her, standing at attention and awaiting orders. But Ahsoka was a child, and no child deserved hands steeped in blood.

He curled his fingers to catch hers, gave them a little squeeze.

'But you stayed. And I pulled through. The Force is with us, Ahsoka.'

'But it won't always mean we survive.'

'And we can't always worry about that.'

No, they had plenty other things to worry about.

'Let's meditate,' Obi-Wan whispered to his grand padawan. 'If I fall asleep, you go on without me, and we can talk when I'm... Better.'

'Yes, Master,' Ahsoka said.

She brushed away the hair plastered to his brow and placed a new cold compress. She sighed and watched the man fall asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

Yes, Ahsoka Tano had a great many things to meditate about.


End file.
